


Pretty Much Soul Mates

by dontbecooler



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Police Officer AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stucky - Freeform, only a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a kidnapping which left Bucky's left arm completely scarred, Steve decides that maybe suggesting early retirement might help his friend and requests for a new partner. Bucky doesn't take it very well at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Much Soul Mates

**Author's Note:**

> STUCKYSTUCKYSTUCKY AHHH  
> yay for my first stucky rp, i love it so much and more people need to do it with me because perfect ship is perfect.
> 
> wistful was Buck  
> I was steve
> 
> ENJOY!! xoxoxo

Bucky was pale and shaking, slightly, when he entered Steve's office, a handful of papers crumpled in his fist. "What the fuck is this, huh?" he asked, voice rough. "You requested a _new partner_? Since when do you go over my head like that?" He slammed the papers down onto Steve's desk, his left hand--his scarred hand, his fucked up hand--splaying over the words that had burned him to read. Ever since he'd been kidnapped seven months ago, ever since Steve had had to disobey direct orders to rescue him...things had been strained. Even in his worst nightmares, Bucky had never thought it was this bad. "I know we aren't--meshing well right now, pal, but I kind of thought we were a forever sort of deal. End of the line, that ringing any bells for you?"

 

Steve looked up suddenly, not expecting his partner to actually have found out about this so early in the process. The blond swallowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. He knew what he was putting his friend through. They'd been through everything together. The training, where Steve had been runty and little, Bucky taking him under his wing and training him into the night so he gained muscle mass and actually was able to pass all the tests. They'd been through everything. The kidnapping, every case and call out since and before then. But Steve had concluded that his friend wasn't fit for duty, and it would be best if he were to be ushered out of the line of work they were in. Maybe to something less... Straining. Like knitting. Steve stood, words stumbling for a moment before he regained himself and spoke. "I'm sorry Buck, I just think that..." He hesitated, squaring his shoulders and deciding to take this head on, "Ever since the kidnapping, you've been unstable. And I can't- I don't know if I can trust you to cover me in the field." The blond tired to keep his tone from pitying; he didn't want to do this. "I thought... If you weren't with me you might retire into a better fitting job. One where you don't get out under stress as often. So nothing can be brought up." The blond licked his bottom lip nervously, but keep his gaze steady. He wouldn't back down from this; his stance on this was completely validated.

 

Bucky was, for once, completely silent. He stared at Steve with his mouth half open, eyes stinging--and then rage filtered into his bones and betrayal clenched his stomach in a tight fist. "You _motherfucker_ ," Bucky snarled. He had never been mad at Steve before. This was new territory, and he was fairly certain he didn't like it. "My mental health is _my_ business. I've been going to fucking therapy, I've been getting my head back together after being tortured--for _you_ , asshole, what do you want from me?" He pushed off of Steve's desk, pacing to the door. Away from Steve's pitying face. "Christ, do you even respect me a little? Just a little bit?"

 

Steve moved to follow his friend, though he didn't want to get close. He'd never seen his friend so livid. "I do, Buck, I do, and I think that being in this line of work won't be good for your recovery. I hold the utmost respect for you, you know that; please don't swear at me, I'm asking this so you can get better." Steve raised a hand, as if to touch Bucky's shoulder, but he pulled his hand back, knowing it wouldn't help to try and calm his friend down. They'd gotten close to this kind of thing before, though the anger had been directed to other people, not Steve himself, and the blond knew it may be best to ride the storm instead of fight it. "I'm doing this for you," he reiterated, taking a small step back so Bucky's eyes didn't cut him down any further. His gut was twisting, the guilt sprouting like a poisonous weed and curling around his insides. He hadn't meant it like Bucky was taking it, crap it was all going to shit wasn't it.

 

"I _will_ swear at you, because you fucking deserve it," Bucky growled, his hand extended in front of him in a wordless _don't move any closer, fucker_ that he hoped to god Steve wouldn't disobey. Because otherwise Bucky was going to snap, he could just feel it. "I thought," he said, his voice ragged with betrayal, "That you were the one person who would believe in me no matter what. I put all my faith into you, you arrogant asshole, and this is what you do? Force my hand into an early retirement? You _know_ it's you or nothing when it comes to partners, you _know_ \--" His voice, damn it, broke on he last syllable, just as his face crumpled.

 

Steve glanced around, having not noticed his other co-workers staring at them. The blond grit his jaw, flinching like he’d been slapped but taking the words full on, because they were slightly true, but he wouldn't budge from his stance on the situation. Though as his friend spoke his stomach grew tighter, and he had to clench his fists to stop stepping forward and bringing Bucky into a hug as his entire frame just slumped against the doorway, and the blond let out a small breath, swallowing a lump from his throat after a couple of tries. "I know," he said grimly, forcing himself to not raise his voice and scream at Bucky that this was all for him, so he could get better then come back to work. But that wasn't what Steve did. He kept the calm facade whatever it took. "I didn't say you couldn't come back Buck, I just want you to get better, you need to understand-" he cut off, shaking his head and running his face. He would look like the bad guy in that moment, especially to all his coworkers.

 

 

"The only way I'm gonna get better is if I have at least somebody's faith in me," Bucky said, voice rough, and maybe that was too much of a low blow, but Steve had taken his life into his own hands and shook Bucky around like a feather in the wind. Like a snowflake in a winter storm. He could feel people's eyes on him--he'd neglected to close Steve's office door behind him, bad decision, Barnes--and he knew that Natasha would be there with a shoulder to cry on once he was done here. The idea that everyone else could see his weakness, though, made his skin crawl, and he prayed Steve would at least have the decency not to spread around his reasoning for kicking Bucky out of his life like that any more than it already had. "I'm not leaving the force," Bucky said, jaw clenched, and looked at Steve with his red-rimmed eyes. "I don't care what you think. It's my life, it's my decision. I'll have Fury transfer me. This is it, pal. I guess this right here is the end of the line."

 

Steve looked slightly taken aback at that, not expecting Bucky to just blatantly disagree. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but his first words cracked, "But Buck-" he shook his head, grabbing the bridge of his nose. He took a slow breath, running a hand through his hair now. It wasn't the end of the line. It wasn't like they'd stop going out for drinks, hanging out. It was as if the brunet thought that was what would happen. "You can't just-" Steve cut off again, hand that hasn't been frantically touching and fiddling trembling at his side. "It's not the end of the line." He blinked, though his expression was slightly more masked. "And I still have faith in you, I always have, I always will, Buck-" he closed his eyes and turned his face to the floor, words not really showing themselves. He looked up again, and it rushed out as he met Bucky's eyes with his own gaze. "If you think you're still fit to work I think you should keep doing so. Just- somewhere easier then. Maybe. So you don't get out under too much."

 

"No, I don't think you understand," Bucky said, hands shaking, and the look on his face must have been somewhere between righteous anger and agony, but he wasn't sure which side of the line it fell on. "I'm _telling_ you this is the end. You don't get to tell me you don't trust me to watch your back and then go on to say that we're still pals. You can't have it both ways." He stuffed his hands in his pocket, chin tipped up in defiance. He loved Steve more than he'd ever loved another person, but that didn't mean that Steve could think he was the sole operator of Bucky's life. He didn't know the inside of Bucky's head. _Bucky_ was the only one who knew the inside of his head. "I would've died for you," he said, voice shelling out words like bullets. "In a heartbeat."

 

Steve froze, and he felt he'd been punched. In the gut, with a steel knuckle. He didn't know how to respond to that. Bucky, was actually saying this was it? After everything... After all they'd been through. He was just cutting him off, like a deformed limb or dead branch. Steve continued to gape, jaw slightly slack, for a moment before clearing his throat and shaking his head with a small sniff. "If... You really feel like that Buck," he said slowly, not even sure if he was actually saying the words, feeling detached, "then I won't stop you." His voice was husky with emotions he dared not show, and then he gave a stiff nod. "If you ah... Need someone to take a bullet for you, please give me a call." He pursed his lips, gritting his jaw so tightly he was sure his teeth would crack. This wasn't actually happening. His best fiend wasn't actually telling him that it wasn't that any more; the brother he had just saying it was over was an illusion, a bad dream. But in dreams it didn't feel like there was a frozen knife in your chest, didn't hinder breathing. It was a living nightmare then.

 

Steve's shattered-glass eyes almost made Bucky feel guilty, but he was the one who'd started this. Steve was the one who had removed the trust; Bucky was the one who had to learn to live knowing that Steve didn't think he was fit to do his job anymore. This was going to be best for everyone involved. "Look," Bucky said, his grip on the doorway going white-knuckled. "You put in the request for a new partner. You did it without saying a word to me, first. You know Fury's gonna get you Wilson or somebody else, someone who isn't broken. You already cut the ties; I'm just sayin' the words out loud."

 

Steve blurted out the words, "Did you not read the fine print? _Temporary_ partner, idiot." He shut his mouth, not wanting to get too angry. "Until you were able to come back to work and not freak out if you saw something that reminded you of seven months ago." He took a few slow breaths, blinking slowly. "You're not broken, James, just temporarily out of business. Or that's what I thought when I made the request." The blond turned his head away, shaking his head. The knife was still there, twisting slowly as his friend- could he still be called that?- spoke. It wasn't really fair, shouldn't he just leave and be done with it? Instead of pushing little needles in too?

 

It was when Steve called him 'James' that sealed the deal. Steve _knew_ that no one but Bucky's father had called him that, and that Bucky's father-- "We're done," Bucky said, pushing off the doorway. "You're gonna realize someday that you shouldn't've done this like you did. But I ain't gonna wait around until it catches up to you." With that, his heart stinging in his throat, Bucky turned on his heel and walked out of Steve's office, every other police officer parting like the Red Sea to let Bucky out. It was odd, feeling Steve's eyes on his back like that. Like they were inscribing something into Bucky's spine.

 

Steve stared at his friend as he left, how no one leaped forward to stop his friend, stop this from happening, because it couldn't be happening. Bucky was right. There were ten million and five ways he could've gone about this better, and as he begged his friend to turn and around and stop and _not do this_ with his eyes, but it was too late. He stepped back into his office, gritting his teeth and shaking his head, breath coming out in pants. No, no no no no, he'd fucked up so bad. In a rush of emotion, he threw himself at his desk with a scream of frustration at himself, throwing everything off it on the floor. He heard a picture frame shatter; he'd sort it out later. He had pushed Bucky away. Steve knelt on the floor, looking at the paper that held the reason for this thing, and dropped his head into his hands. He was the biggest fucking idiot wasn't he? The blond swallowed, standing and taking a few steadying breaths. Throwing a tantrum wouldn't help anyone. He started setting his desk again, leaving the photo frame on the floor. It was face down, but Steve knew what it was. His graduation photo, standing next to Bucky with a huge grin and a police ID. That photo meant nothing now.

 

The first couple of weeks were bad. Not so bad that Bucky was tempted to give in and quit the force, but bad enough that he was sure he wasn't exactly fun to be around. Fury transferred him to vice, which wasn't so bad because Bucky got to be partnered with Natasha temporarily, what with Barton still out for a bad concussion, but it wasn't the same. Bucky, half-crazed one night while he paced sleeplessly around his apartment, thought that it never was going to be the same. This was the end of him loving his job, this was the end of him loving...much of anything, really. Steve had taken that away from him too. He asked Nat how Steve was doing, one day, which was a colossal mistake, but it was good to hear that Steve was just as much a mess as he was. Served him right.

 

The first couple of weeks were bad. Steve couldn't concentrate, it had been the worst. Paperwork was a 'mare, there was no way he could sit still and right down how stupid other people were when he was even worse. It was fine though, he had been paired with Sam, and he was reliable, especially on the field that day that the blond almost freaked out and not gone into a building which needed to be cleared. Steve felt like he was to stop loving his job, but it was impossible. His coworkers had been really supportive, and were helping him as much as they could. Steve had tried to move the picture he'd over turned but he hadn't the heart, and it sat exactly where it had fallen that day. He asked Nat how Bucky was doing, which was a colossal mistake. It was so terrible to hear that his friend was almost in a worse state than he. He didn't need that. Steve was almost tempted to call him. Text him, visit him, anything. But he'd probably be crossing lines. Bucky had been clear, his words knives and sharp edged. They were done.

 

Bucky found himself staring at his phone sometimes with a wistful, pinched look, when he thought of something funny that only Steve would find amusing. Everything reminded Bucky of him--his own fucking car smelled like Steve's aftershave, and he could feel, sometimes, the fact that Steve's fingerprints were on everything he owned. He took up smoking again, just to taste something different on his tongue, which made Nat purse her lips in his general direction, but she didn't stop him. Good. Bucky didn't want to be stopped. In the gym one day, after hours (Bucky had taken to coming down here when Steve would have been least likely to arrive), Bucky looked up from his assault on a punching bag and was met with Steve's panicked face in the doorway. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, and waited wordlessly for Steve to say something. He felt vulnerable--his shirt was off, sweat glistening on his brow and on his collar bones. He was struck by the odd desire to scramble into his bulletproof vest.

 

Steve wanted to do something other than go for runs and out for drinks with the 'lads', as the new British guy called the whole group. It wasn't normal. They weren't the lads without Bucky there getting wasted off his head and needing a car ride home, it wasn't the lads if Bucky wasn't screaming at the bar television at his favorite team. They weren't the lads at all in any way. It had been a rough day, a bloody drug dealer trying to stab him just as Wilson came around and stopped anything from happening, and Steve didn't want to go out and get drunk. It was very unpleasant, being unable to control your body and mind. No, it would be much better to go to the gym. Except... Crap. Bucky was there. Steve froze, unsure what to do, and it seemed like the other was waiting for him to do something, so the blond did what he would do if it were anyone. He gave a small polite smile and a nod, walking forward and past his (ex?) best friend, though each step without a word killing him, weights in his feet growing heavy as he walked past and actually could smell Buck and only him- Steve got to the treadmills, tying on his shoes and setting up without looking at the brunet in the middle of the room.

 

Bucky, after a moment to collect himself, went back to hitting the punching bag with all the pent up frustration pressing from beneath his sternum. Steve wasn't looking at him--Bucky snuck a few glances, and Steve's eyes were always on the wall in front of him--but Steve didn't put on headphones for music, either. That was a departure. Bucky wondered if he wanted all his senses intact, in case Bucky lost it and hit him, instead. That was probably an uncharitable thought. He struck the bag harder, rage building, until his left hand--his scarred hand, the one they told him he wouldn't ever get his mobility back to--hit too hard at the wrong angle and he cried out, stumbling forward a step. He'd split his knuckles. Fuck. " _Mother_ fucker," he spat, shaking out his hand, and blamed Steve for his distraction. To get to the first aid, he had to walk past Steve--he studiously did not meet his eyes, knew there would be judgment there if he did. He got out the bandages.

 

Steve stared at the wall the treadmill faced, turning the speed up to an above average speed, listening to Bucky behind him and not bothering to plug his music in. Maybe Bucky might strike up a conversation if he kept his ears open. He was just turning the speed up, trying to drain himself of all oxygen from his lungs, when he heard the curse, and he stumbled, almost landing on his face, but he emergency stopped the machine and leaned against the handles, looking underneath his body with panting breaths. He straightening as the brunet started walking towards him, determined to not look affected or winded. He started the treadmill up again, trying to not glance at his friend as he stood far too close for someone who was 'done' with him. Steve grit his teeth, turning the speed up. It was obvious that Bucky was either stubborn or over him. That was fine. They could be done then. Steve wouldn't start anything. But as he heard his friend curse again when trying the bandages he stopped his running again. "Do you need any help bandaging that?" He asked, taking off his already sweat drenched shirt. Hard running would do that to a person. He leaned forward, ready for rejection, and instead focused on his breathing, calming down his racing heart that was pumping loudly in his ears.

 

Bucky's immediate reaction would have been to spit a vehement no, but he was struggling enough with the bandages that he paused for a moment, not looking up. "Yeah," he said, finally, and when his gaze rose to meet Steve's, he nearly swallowed his own tongue. Steve was gorgeous, he'd known this from the moment he spotted him, but...it was one thing to know your ex-partner was gorgeous on an intellectual level, but another thing completely to be faced with him, half-naked and sweat-soaked. "You don't...have to, though," he said carefully, but he was bleeding, and he couldn't do anything one-handed for shit. He needed the help.

 

Steve scoffed softly, and stepped off the machine, wanting to tease his friend, but they weren't friends anymore, he needed to remember that. He got the bandages and quickly wrapped the hand, touch careful and light, not too firm but not like a feather. He ran his fingers carefully over the scars, knowing they were hyper-sensitive. Having wrapped his own hand so many times, he could do it without looking and decided to glance up at the brunet. Definitely not unattractive, and half naked he was even better, the scars gracing his left arm a tapestry of broken skin and power, a sign that anything can be conquered. Steve ran a thumb over the bandage when he was done, flicking his eyes only once to Bucky's chest, which was an achievement of its own. "You'll be shooting right handed for a little while unless you want your whole arm to get sore," he said quietly, a small smile touching his lips, but enforce anything else could be said he turned away, picking up his shirt and wiping his face with it. He stepped back onto the machine, starting a warm down so he could get into the weights.

 

"Steve," Bucky said, agonized, because he couldn't _do_ this anymore--he couldn't pretend he hated him, couldn't meet Steve's eyes and tell him he was glad they were done. He was furious that Steve had done all those things without telling him first (or even apologizing, Jesus Christ), but he didn't hate him. He could never hate him. "Just--c'mere, will you?" His smile was weary, when he offered it, but it was there, and he hoped to god that was enough because he couldn't muster up anything else. Steve had seemed almost reticent to pull away, when his fingers were dragging over Bucky's bandaged hand. Maybe he was reticent enough to pull away that Bucky could drag him closer.

 

Steve looked up, whole body sparking with the energy that could fuel the world for a year. He stepped off the machine without turning it off, stepping to his friend and pulling him into the tightest bear hug, squeezing his arms tightly around Bucky's ribs under the others arms, and burying his face in the others neck, reveling in the smell. So familiar. Too bad if Bucky hadn't wanted to hug, that's what was happening. "About fucking time," the blond growled, bending over only slightly so he wasn't taller than the other. It was appropriate to swear then, the situation allowed it. He relaxed so the hug wasn't as sharp, and shook his head, pulling back and looking into Bucky's shining blue eyes, flicking from one to the other quickly, still shaking his head. "I missed you man," he said, pulling back so there was more space between them. Bucky wouldn't be completely over the betrayal yet, and Steve hadn't even forgiven himself, he didn't expect the brunet to either.

 

Bucky's arms--which had flailed, a little, when Steve grabbed him--wrapped around Steve's shoulders. "You're a punk," Bucky said, voice rough, even though affection was making it harder for him to breathe. "And you're not forgiven." He pulled Steve into another embrace, tucking his face into the crook of Steve's neck in a vain attempt to hide the way he was shaking. "Missed you too, though," he muttered, almost too quiet for Steve to hear. "Missed you like hell." He was hyper-conscious of the way Steve's body was pressed against his own, but he didn't pull back; he was too starved for touch.

 

The blond grinned and held his friend- he could say that now- and gave a tight chuckle. "I know." It didn't matter to which sentence he was replying. He had known that they'd missed each other; he knew he wasn't forgiven, he definitely was a punk. They stayed like that for a moment, and complete silence and stillness gave Steve a chance to take in the heat exuding from the other and the way he was trembling slightly. The taller man put a hand on Bucky's back, splaying his hand out. "I'm not that special, there's no need to be nervous," he laughed, leaning his head on the others. He wanted to say more, apologize for being a dick, but in that moment it didn't feel right. So instead he just hugged. Their skin slightly stuck, the sweat drying slowly, but it didn't bother the blond in any way.

 

Bucky pulled back eventually, because there was only so much time that a guy could platonically hold another guy while both of them were half-naked before it got weird. He kept his hands on Steve's shoulders, though, keeping him within arm's reach. "You're gonna bully Fury into making us partners again," he said, his tone brooking no disagreement. "And you're gonna apologize at some point for putting us through that shit. You were...right that I'm not doing so great, but I need you on my side, alright? Whatever shit's going on in my head, we're gonna work it out together. _Together_ , you understand me?"

 

Steve grinned, moving one hand to clap Buck around the back of his neck, shaking his head slowly in disbelief at himself. "I should have figured that out before all this crap," he said, letting out a huff. "I'm sorry I'm an idiot and that I put us through all that shit." He felt his cheeks he's only slightly, but he could give that to the fact that he'd just been running not that he was blushing. Why would be blush? There was no reason to. "Together, Buck, with you to the end of the line." He grinned again, eye sparkling.

 

"There you go," Bucky said, grinning almost painfully hard, and felt one of his hands drift to Steve's waist. That was...allowed, wasn't it? Steve was looking at him like he'd hung the fucking moon, and Bucky, who'd missed Steve like an absent limb, who had never felt more rejected in his life--fuck, there was a reason for that, wasn't there? There was a reason why Steve's rejection had hurt him so badly, and it wasn't because he was sensitive or something. It was because he was in love with-- "Steve," Bucky said, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I'm gonna do something stupid and potentially mortifying. Bear with me."

 

Steve flicked his gaze downwards to his hip, unsure, but almost completely sure what Bucky was going to do. Crap. They couldn't do this right? No between coworker relationships? Oh god. But Steve wanted to do it. Oh god he would stand completely still if Bucky kept looking like that for eternity. "Sure," he breathed, looking back up. Okay he was blushing now, there was no other reason. How long had it been like this? Since the start? Since the moment when Steve thought the other was out of bounds? He couldn't tell, it was all a blur. His mind was swirling, and the arm that wasn't around Bucky's neck quickly went there, and the blond gave a small smile. He would do anything Bucky asked.

 

Bucky swallowed a little sharply. He figured, if Steve hated him for it, well, then they'd both have done unforgivable things. They'd be even. Steve wasn't looking like he'd hate him for it, though, especially when his arm slipped around Bucky's neck to hold him closer. "Christ," Bucky muttered, though if it was a curse or a prayer, he couldn't tell, and slipped a hand into Steve's hair before pulling him into a soft, achingly sweet kiss. Bucky's toes curled in his shoes. How long had he wanted to do this? Had he always wanted to? Did his heart and Steve's call to each other's like satellite signals this entire time? Almost more pressingly--would Bucky have ever gone for it if he hadn't realized how fucked up he was without Steve?

 

The blond pressed his lips more closely to the others, not wanting to pull away, not ever, now that he'd realized the sparks the shot throughout him at this touch. He pulled back eyes bright, unable to hold back the grin that burst onto his face. "Just-" he said, leaning forward and touching foreheads with the other, not wanting the hand in his hair to move or the one on his waist. "Give me moment." He closed his eyes, tongue darting out to touch his bottom lip and tasting Bucky. He frowned though, was that ash? Bucky couldn’t have started up again, it was terrible and disgusting and he’d quit. Steve would still have to ask though. He pulled back, gaze still loving but completely offended. "Have you started smoking again?" He asked accusingly, not removing his hands from Bucky's neck.

 

"Only a little," Bucky said guiltily. "I was kind of a wreck." One of the reasons he'd quit in the first place was because Steve hated it. The relapse--which had been a _terrible_ idea, he was starting to wish Nat had actually stopped him--had been half out of spite in the first place. "I'll quit again. Sorry I kissed you with smoke-breath." He couldn't stop the smile from coming back, though, because Steve's hands at his neck were doing strange things to the way his heart was beating in his chest. "So, I, uh...would do that again," he started, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, "But I'd hate to _offend_ you, so I feel like I should ask permission. Can I...?"

 

Steve leaned down and kissed him immediately, touching the others lips with a butterfly light touch, moving one hand now to the base of Bucky's back, and he pulled their waists closer, pressing one hard kiss then pulled back again, grinning cheekily. "I won't kiss you again until you don't taste like a chimney," he rumbled softly, moving his body entirely away so he could turn the whirring treadmill off and start packing up his things. He looked to his friend, smiling at the slightly dumb founded expression he was faced with. "I am going to go and have a shower, then I'm going to go get a drink. Do you want to come?" He asked, standing and stretching slightly. He'd only come here for a short workout; this idea seemed much more appealing.

 

Bucky swayed a little, once Steve's hands left his skin. So--Steve wanted him too. Just as much as he did. The thought made his smile grow a little foolish on his face, but he couldn't bring himself to mind. Not really. "To the bar or to your shower?" he clarified with a wink, moving past Steve to gather up his shirt again. If he let his hand trail over Steve's stomach as he passed him, well, that was nobody's business but his own, was it? "Answer's yes, by the way."

 

Steve felt his stomach swirl pleasantly at the touch on his stomach and scoffed. "I know it's to both, but you're not coming into any shower with me until you've bought me a drink." He grinned, following after his friend to flick a leg up and kick his bum lightly. "Cheeky dick," he laughed, walking past him but stopping, going back to him and kissing him full on the lips quickly, hands full so it was only lips. "Welcome back Buck," he grinned, turning away and almost running away. "Text me!" He yelled, at the doorway, pulling on his shirt as he went.

 

Bucky laughed so hard his chest hurt, once Steve had all but sprinted out the door. He had to sit down on one of the benches, he was laughing so hard, the tightness in his chest loosening for the first time in weeks. He and Steve weren't made to avoid each other, really. Their bodies--their souls, Bucky might've thought, if he was more religious--were designed to align. _Never again_ , he promised himself firmly. _Never again_.


End file.
